Our Twisted Realities
by AmIObsessed
Summary: If you met yourself in an alternate universe and touched . . . would the world explode? Rating may change.
1. Prologue

**I really shouldn't be making another story, but I just . . the list has been finished for a few weeks now and . . it was calling me to write it ._.**

**xXx**

Darkness.

It was always darkness.

This dream, the reoccurring dream, was always bathed in the nothingness of the dark where not a living thing would lurk in, it would be a vast, empty wasteland, as silent as it was deserted. The lack of noise didn't cause uneasiness, nor did the lack of light cause the feeling of being blind, helpless, unable to block off anything that could be thrown to harm, it was tranquil. The blackness could have been in the depths of the ocean, the sluggish feel of swinging her arms out in the space around her equivalent to the lazy, underwater swimming strokes. Its coolness was welcomed by her, swirling around her body and stroking the creamy flesh, its brushes no heavier or rougher than a feather that had just drifted down from a bird.

Her legs moved forward at their own will, not that she was defiant and against it, and they carried her throw the void, every step sending a bolt of ease from the flat of her bare foot to her numbed face. The warmth of her breath soon became icy particles that clung to the surface of her cheeks and nipped at her nose, the lovely freshness of it exciting her body. She was so used to knowing what was going to happen and being able to see what situation she was in, but here now, with no chance of knowing where this path – if it was a path – was taking her, or if she was going in endless circles.

It was then that her scarlet eyes traveled down from whatever direction she had been staring in to her body. The same brown sweater and black tank top, the same black skirt, but no knee high socks. Her skin flushed with a wave of goose bumps, the realization that she was cold blocking her from comprehending that she was able to see what she was wearing, when just previously she had been cast in nothing but darkness. She brushed her hand over the pimples that had arisen in her skin, hand rubbing against the side of her thigh and creating a minor heat that compared not against the cool air.

Seeing that her hand had lightened up to a darker shade of gray rather than the midnight colored blanket that had hidden it from her, she turned her head up, curiosity flecked across her face. Her mouth gaping open, the iciness crawling past her lips and invading the heated cavern, freezing her tongue over, she stared memorized at the brilliant light at the end of the passageway, calling her to come closer to it and enter.

She stopped in her tracks, eyebrows furrowed together as the fear of not knowing what was on the other side leaked into her. Sniffles, the scientist of her town, had once had a presentation about his theory on why they resurrected each day, no matter how gruesome their death was, and he had stated something about their souls not being able to enter the afterlife like they should. He had gone into a detailed description of what they could be missing out, the disappearance of all pain and no deaths, and he had mentioned a few possible choices where they could go. One of them being a place called. . . .

Shaking her head, she was tempted to turn around and walk back, but as she turned her body, she felt a persistent tugging on her mind, like she needed to be there. She frowned worriedly, what would happen if she went and she never came back . . She couldn't remember dying, but then again, no one ever could. The last thing she could recall was being dropped off by Petunia and Giggles after a long day of shopping. Exhausted, she had stumbled into her living room, dropping her keys on the coffee table, and fallen like a dead weight onto her couch. After that . . nothing came to mind, but it was possible that her roof had caved in for some unforeseen reason and crushed her sleeping form under it.

The tugging grew, luring her in and erasing all doubtful thoughts as she bit down on her thumb nail, but she couldn't feel nervous the nearer she came to it, the feeling leaving her body for the time being. The light grew brighter, warming her to the bone and calling her name out. This was where she never turned back, it was the final end, and she knew it. It was exactly what Sniffles had claimed it to be, he couldn't have been wrong about the sense of protection and comfort, along with the "light at the end of the tunnel".

Eyes watering, she took a breath meant to give her courage and pushed her hand out into the unknown, a numbness enveloping and putting a warm blanket on her. With the coldness driven away, she sighed in content, her eyes flickering under her eyelids and face upturned to enjoy the sun, or what could have been mistaken for the sun. The trickling of a nearby river filled her mind, its calming effect encouraging her to actually see what was around her.

Her surroundings were peculiar, but relaxing nonetheless. It was the childhood setting of a lit up forest, golden beams pouring through the branches of the fir trees and butterflies flying from one flower to the next. There wasn't a patch that wasn't covered in sunlight as far as she could tell, the glittering in the air a possible mirage from the sudden change of dark to bright. The grass blades, soft as a carpeted walkway under her, were swaying in the pleasant breeze that blew through the trees, tickling her feet.

Birds twittering and squirrels chatting amongst themselves, she was distracted from noticing the boy who was seated in a particularly well lit area of grass, his nervous posture relaxing some when he saw her. Flaky smiled, heart overflowing with the cuteness of such a quaint little place, and shuffled forward, afraid that it was all going to fade if she touched anything.

Changing where she was looking at, her eyes drifted from the clear looking water of the pond, surrounded by smooth river rocks, to follow a Monarch butterfly, earning a shock when it passed by the red hair of the male as she finally noticed him. Stricken with the surprise that there was another being in her dream, she openly gaped at him, if only for a second. Their contact was short, both of them breaking it and anxiously fiddling with something; for her it was her hair and it being the edge of his sweater for him. She hadn't expected anyone else to be here, not now nor the other times . . .

"H-hello," Flaky stuttered out while looking back at his face to inspect it for any signs of danger. He could be a murderer, looks could be deceiving, but . . if she wasn't mistaken, he looked almost as nervous as she felt.

He nodded awkwardly, staring at his twirling thumbs that were placed in his lap, mumbling in response, "H-hi . ." His voice carried over to her as a whisper, the words said lower than the softest of mumbles, hardly a breath over an octave. Having no intentions to have a conversation with her, or so it looked like it, she decided to drop the causalities – he was just a figment her mind had conjured up, anyways, so there was no point in speaking.

Taking the time to pretend to admire the scenery a bit more, she discreetly examined his appearance, something about him was oddly . . familiar . . The red hair, it had to be the red hair. She only knew one male who had the same hair color as her, and he rarely liked to be seen out in public, disliking that people would sometimes mistake him for his blue headed twin. Its rarity would have made him stick out like a sore thumb in her memories if she was recognizing him from somewhere.

But that was just a trait that he inherited, it wasn't as if he had by chosen what hair color he was born with. She couldn't drag her focus away from his head, his hair striking her interest as she strained her eyes to decide whether her mind was playing tricks on her again. Because . . she could have almost swore that he had an excessive dandruff problem as well, the flakes falling to the ground with every movement and gathering in a circle around him. Comforted that now he wouldn't be able to make fun of her for her scalp condition, she drew her attention to his face.

His boyish features determined his age to be somewhere around the age of seventeen to nineteen, setting them in the same age category. The peach toned skin was slightly pale under the vividly colored hair, yet she wouldn't have considered him as being pasty, choosing to admire his blemish-free complexion. In fact, the only default she spotted in his face were the worry lines he had in his forehead, put there from the constant upraise of his brows when he was upset or anxious.

He seemed worried then, she assumed, seeing that he was biting his lower lip and constantly pulling blades of grass from the ground to toss to the side when they were dislodged. There was little to worry about in a place like this, so she found it difficult to understand why he was, not even she was on the edge. The only tragic event that could occur was falling into the pond that couldn't have been more than four feet depth wise.

Unable to see his eyes since he was looking down, busing himself with the flowers around him, she hesitated before stepping closer, wary that he might get angry at her for picking the area he was in to sit down when there was many other places she could go.

When he didn't look up or snap at her for penetrating his bubble of personal space, she dropped down onto her knees, hands cupping them and moving up to rest on her thighs after she squirmed nearer to the boy. Her curiosity ruling over her own shy personality, she was able to crawl and pause only two feet from him without the troubling thought of being frightened.

"U-um . ." Flaky curled her fingers into the grass, unsure of how to ask the first question. She never did like to be the first to start, or restart, a conversation.

Looking up, startled at her closeness, he turned his eyes away from her at once and pulled up his legs to himself. His fingers were locked together under his knee caps through the grey loose fitting jeans. He licked his lips and opened his mouth to speak, but at first nothing came out. It was on his second try that he managed to ask the question of her name.

". . W-what's your name?"

"My n-name?" She asked, answering a question with a question, her name fleeing from her memory for a second. Her mind was hazy and unable to think of anything as simple as a name in the smothering safeness of the unrealistic setting, while just minutes before her thoughts had been crisp, clear; the clarity was gone now, it had left with the icy temperature. Now she was slow, the need to take a nap in the soothing environment beckoning her to lay her head down.

"I-I'm not sure . ." Why would he want her name, was her body craving companion or friendship to such an extent that she had to make up a person. But everyone had talked to persons in their dreams one or more times, it was normal – if she had tried to continue it. The conversation was once again left to nothing, neither of them working hard to figure out what place they were in.

Finding it rude of herself not to ask the same question as well, the girl stammered out in embarrassment, "W-what's your n-name?"

"Huh?" He hadn't expected a continuation of the conversation, fine with sitting in silence with the female. Briefly wondering if giving his name to a dreamt up girl was the right thing to do, he picked at the laces of his shoes. It couldn't lead to anything bad, so what was the harm in it. "O-oh . . okay . . my name's—"

_"FLAKYYYYY!"_

The name rang out through the dream, the fear showing in his eyes as he finally looked up at her. The soft, sensitive scarlet eyes that she saw reflected at her every day in the mirror.

"W-whaha!?" The landscape falling apart and blurring, she covered her ears to stop the shrieking from deafening her. The lights that had warmly lit up the forest surrounded meadow shutting off like someone had flipped off a switch and blackening everything, the boy included, she was snapped out of her dreamscape with a scream.

"WAHH!—" Flaky sat up immediately, the covers tangling and flying into the air as she rolled off her bed and landed on the floor of her room with a low groan. Legs still hanging on the bed, she rolled over and sat up to tenderly rub the crown of her head. After a minute of recovering, she looked at her bed where the culprit sat, bouncing on the springy mattress and dripping melted ice cream onto her thermal blanket.

Nutty waved with his free but still sticky hand, smiling at her bedraggled and annoyed form. He hadn't understood that he had been the one who had driven her to where she was now. "Happy morning Flaky! Why are you on the floor?"

Flaky sighed and stood. "No reason . . The bed w-was just making my back hurt . ." If she had tried to explain it to him they'd be in her room all day plus one. "Nutty . . how d-did you get in here?"

"Splendid told me where the spare key was!" He replied, as chipper as he always was whenever she talked to him. "He pointed to the mat and then I used it to come in here! Haha but he told me I couldn't tell you that I knew about it! Isn't that weird!? And you need more ice cream now, and more WAFFLE cones!" He gave her a toothy grin and might as well have smashed the whole cone into his face, licking up the sticky treat.

This was too early to already be disgusted but something like . . that.

Scratching her arm and wrinkling her nose slightly at the disturbing sight, she told herself to move her house key later . . when she knew for sure that Splendid wasn't looking at her house to see what she was doing. "So you c-came in on your own, without me saying it was okay . . That's f-fine . . But why did you need me?"

"Huuuh?" Nutty, so involved in his sweets, had forgotten the entire reason why he had marched into her house without permission and caused a ruckus in the first place.

"The reason? N-Nutty, why are you in my house? To tell or ask me s-something?"

His face took on a blank look as he tapped his chin with one sugared finger, the stickiness creating a challenge for him to pull it away. "Mmmm, uhhh, the reeassoon, oh, duh! I know why! Sniffles is having me remind EVERYONE that his science observatory thingy is today! Remember?! The planets and stars and yeah yeah yeah stuff is tonight! So I gotta make sure everyone is going!

"His words were 'Nutty, go find people and don't get distracted' then I came here and I found this ice cream! Like you bought it for me yay!" Giggling and swinging his legs out, the teen smiled at her, waiting for her response. "And yeah – hehe! – I wanted to make sure that you didn't forget to go!"

Bolting at the word 'today', the drowsiness drained out of her as she remembered the commitment and what her part of it had been. She had had to meet up with Flippy and purchase the snacks for the – Flippy! She was supposed to have met him almost twenty minutes ago at the grocery store to pick out the munchies and refreshments!

"N-no I'm late!" Flaky, holding out her arms to the side and panicking about what needed to be done, she ran to her closet and pulled her everyday sweater. She would need to get dressed, and fast, before her friend could start worrying about her.

"Late for what!?"

"Nutty get o-out of my house!" Sounding exasperated, she jogged into her bathroom and shut the door, locking it to signify that she needed privacy. Alone in the bathroom, she put her clothes on the sink and gripped the ends of the counter, staring at her feet and trying to forget the dream. She didn't know a boy like that, never had seen him in her life if she was remembering things correctly.

This was all too weird . . No she hadn't seen him in her life, or never seen him in the town to be specific, but for the past two weeks she had the same dream every night. Wasn't that supposed to mean something? But how did it mean anything if she never advanced in the dream and she knew nothing about who he was . .

Flippy would know, she would ask him. He was always good at giving her advice about things like this.

**xXx**

**This was a boring first chapter, but it's kinda like a prologue thing. Ah, another multichapter for me, awesome. I'm hoping that later chapters are longer and more interesting than this one. Reviews would be awesome, and soon the genderbents will make their appearances! Soon.**


	2. Dark Dreams

**Some genderbents make appearances in this chap yay! Check my profile for their names if you want, I'm not wasting my time by putting them here. Warning: Tangents and a little blood at the end.**

**xXx**

"Mm," Flippy looked away from the price off the bag of cheesy puffs, skeptically staring down at his redheaded friend. "I think you need to stop eating desserts before bed. The dream you're telling me about, well, I think it's gotta have something to do with your sugar levels. You remember that sugar gives you nightmares?"

Flaky gave an annoyed pout, her fingers curling on the handle of the shopping basket as she regretted telling him anything about her lucid dream. She knew that he would respond like this – telling her that it was all in her head and it meant nothing in reality. But some part of her, a fraction of her hopeful side, had truly believed that he would understand what she was going on about, and maybe even say that he had gone through that same phase also.

This wasn't a phase though! There had to be something wrong with her then if she was having this dream continually, with no change in it whatsoever, and it not meaning anything. It wasn't like she recognized the boy in it from anywhere, despite the similarities they shared, she wasn't sure they had ever had contact outside of these dreamt up meetings. He wasn't a friend that she had forgotten, he was a person she'd never met, so how could she have imagined the littlest detail, like the way he couldn't stare at her directly, from the top of her head.

It certainly didn't have to do with her sugar levels.

The two had just left the snack aisle and paused by the crates that held litters of sodas with all types of flavors, the store's logo, a picture of Russel holding up a loaf of bread stabbed through his hook and a speech bubble that said "Yar", hung above it. Its rusted from age chains creaked ominously in the air coming from the ventilation system. An employee would have to look at that, but until that time came, Flaky was keeping a peeled eye for it. On a day like this where the preparations for Sniffles' galaxy gala were to be completed in a hurry, there was no telling how many accidents could occur.

Flaky laid two fingers on top of the Hawaiian punch he was comparing to another darker soda, pushing it down and reclaiming the attention that she had so easily lost. She glared at the innocent, questioning tilt of his head. "Flippy! T-this is really important! We d-don't have time for deciding what soda w-we're going to get!"

"If we want Sniffles to invite us in we do," he answered back, rolling his forest green eyes and picking her hand up to move it away from the bottle. He wasn't listening again. There were times where she wondered how he could ever be focused on one thing and take it seriously. This was serious to her, it wasn't just a game that she was making up, yet he insisted on treating the matter like it was a minor chip on her shoulder.

Flippy sighed, setting the litter of the red drink down, and turning his body towards her, an indication that she had him. The war vet glanced to each side, satisfied that there wasn't a soul in earshot to hear them, and said, "So, you're having this dream about some guy" –he didn't like the idea of his friend dreaming of . . boys—"and you're positive that he isn't like your uncle or dad? Family?"

"N-no!" Had he been listening when she had said she didn't know who the heck he was!? "I think I would remember h-how my dad looks like, Flips . . It just . ." She struggled to make a comprehensible sentence that would explain her dream. "It has to mean something . . Or do y-you think I'm going c-crazy? Most people dream of b-being naked in front of people . . or falling f-from an airplane . . but not this . ."

Flaky always exaggerated, freaking out over the smallest of problems, and that led to her becoming the paranoid girl she was now. She let her fears eat at her and never let herself believe in what was reality, or believe in anything that her friends would say when they tried to convince her that these fears were irrational. For as long as anyone could remember, she had been the nervous, terrified girl she was now, and it was things like this unimportant "dream" that would get the best of her weak side.

Putting his hands on her shoulders, squeezing them in reassurance, he stated calmly, "You need to relax. If anything, you're just getting those things because you're worried that something bad is gonna happen tonight. But last I heard, Sniffles's going through every last precaution to guarantee that his party won't go wrong. Okay?"

She shrugged out of his grip, frowning and grabbing the litter of punch he had put down. Her eyes hardened as she whispered, too low for him to catch, "I'm not worried about s-something like dying right now." She breathed out a short sigh, moving the chips they had decided to purchase aside and laying the bottle down.

If she had to be honest, no holding back on how much this dream, this nightmare disguised in warm colors and the feeling of being wrapped in a blanket, had disturbed her, it would be now. "Maybe it's nothing . . but I feel like I'm g-going to get replaced . ." Her lower lip jutted out, her head craning upwards and upset eyes holding the contact with him. "He s-seems familiar, but it's m-more than that. H-he reminds me of . ."

"Me . ." The redheaded boy's face turned dejected when he saw the look in his friend's eyes that said she still didn't believe a word that was coming out of his mouth. Rubbing his arm, he muttered to just forget it and pushed past her, ready to leave the aisle and pay, but he was stopped, her hand firmly gripping his arm.

"Flakes," she nodded, a friendly smile gracing her appearance, "look, if it's bugging you so much, Snuffles is an egghead, maybe she can help you when we go to her party later?" Maybe the scientist could beat some sense into his brain that would make him understand that dreams weren't real, and that's why they were called dreams instead of life.

Flakes stared at her hand hesitantly, imagining how many tests and experiments his science loving friend would want to run on him if he uttered a word about the strange girl. It had happened before when she had wanted to find out if she could use the nervousness that spilled out of him for energy . . . but he ended up overriding the system and the machine burst into flames.

Since then, Snuffles had always preferred to take notes of him from afar, along with never inviting him over so he could be her guinea pig. She didn't want all of her hard work being engulfed in flames every time she wanted to test on him.

He looked back into the forest green eyes of his best friend, concern underlying them as she refused to release him until she got a responsive answer.

Switchy was the type of girl who, once she had her mind set on a goal, didn't stop trying to make whatever she wanted happen. Her green eyes constantly filled with a fighting spirit – mostly when she was taunted by most of the other females in Cheerful Woody Ville. But other than her occasional . . Um . . switches . . she was an all-around good person. Always wanting to assist any friend who needed help, though most people preferred to have her sit safely to the side and out of the way if anything that could shatter, cackle, snap, flash, and the list went on and on.

Along with almost every . . girl . . in their secluded home, she proved the discrimination that boys were better than girls at everything was wrong. While he was afraid of ducklings, loud noises, spooky settings, dying, sharp pointy thingies, being electrocuted, and anything that could cause him pain - really, he wished that it was possible to stay home every day and stay protected from the harm of their oh so happy community - she was fearless.

He thought that of her, never having seen her lose her macho female look, but she did have a fetish for fluffy objects, including the girly unicorns and stuffed bears; not that she would ever reveal that side to anyone.

Flakes on the other hand was the . . Opposite. Along with his immense fears that harbored a dark cloud of paranoia over his life every day, he had a tendency to being a freaker outer. Now, he didn't freak out over the tiny things like some other boys did, but he did grow nervous around certain things. A tad sensitive at times, but, and he didn't understand the reason for this, at all, no one, no girl he should say, seemed to mind it.

Switchy must have been thinking that he was freaking out over something small, right then, figuring that it was all just in his imagination and there wasn't anything to fret about. She couldn't see how much he was disturbed by it, which hurt a little since she was always supposed to believe him; that's what best friends did. She was trying to get him to believe that it was nothing, but what he needed was to be told that he wasn't going insane!

"Sure . . I-I guess that she'd tell me what's up," he shifted out from beneath her hand. "We should, you know, g-go buy the chips right now."

She had offended him, she could tell, by not believing his silly antics. But that's all they were: silly antics that his sick mind had conjured up to help him cope with whatever was ailing him. And something must have been, because for the past few weeks, ever since these so called dreams had started, his head had been in the clouds instead of the ground. He wouldn't focus on anything that he was supposed to, and the friends who were around him would constantly be talking about the way he would mutter to himself. The mutters would be too low for anyone to hear, but he rambled on until he was done with what he had been doing.

She would've assumed that he was upset because every day since he began getting unfocused he'd been killed by some mishap; being ran over by Plumpy who was driving a taco cart, having a falling safe hoisted by Disco Babe and Selly dropped on his head, his skull cracking and splattering on the concrete, and her flip side hadn't been so merciful either. The army girl worried that her friend was going through the first stages of depression, they all went through it, and because of his sensitivity he would take it harder than the rest. He denying it just made it a much likelier theory than the freakish world he would go on about to anyone who would listen.

How he truly believed in the other girl's existence, it was freaking her out. His crimson eyes would search hers intensely, just to spot a sign that she believed him, but of course, she didn't. If she said she did, she'd only be supporting his urge to figure out who she was and that could only take him to one place: The nuthouse. So, she tried her best to persuade him otherwise about it, but he could be stubborn if he wanted to be.

The greenette followed him in close toll, watching his fingers as he placed litters of sodas and the cheesy puffs on the conveyer belt, ready to pull his hand out of the crack where the belt disappeared into if necessary.

Flakes was too busy looking out the store windows, squinting when he spotted two figures dressed in dark green messing around Switchy's jeep, to notice that they had reached the front of the line, Truffles grabbing her bags and leaving the space open, and who was behind the register. And he almost didn't remember what he was doing in line until the clear voice of a friend questioned, breaking him from his concentration,

"Flakes! Hi! It's you!"

He snapped his attention back to the register, or rather who was behind the register. Breaking the stare at that the aqua blue eyes were giving him, he mumbled a low hello. "Hi . . Splenda . . What are y-you doing here? I didn't know that you were a cashier, I-I thought you were a news reporter for . . the Daily Acorn?"

The blue haired hero, her hair tied back in her every day ponytail, smiled at him, glad that he had remembered her job. "Yeah but for right now" -she leaned close to him and whispered- "I'm under cover. Hero business, you can't tell anyone! Okay?" Splenda was known to be overly dramatic when it came to little things like getting a new job. She had told him that she was on a special mission, spy work was more like it, but in reality her boss had fired her, again, for not being able to get pictures of the slip up of a hero who always messed up their home. They had needed that picture to see what she looked like, then they could find her, form a mob, and burn down her house as payback for all the times she killed them!

She meant well, she just didn't know how to hold onto the people she saved to prevent them from falling to their doom. The citizens would one day see just how important she really was and how they couldn't live without her, but until then she was stuck having to work at the grocery store to pay for the amounts of yeast and dough she bought weekly to bake her loaves of bread. It wasn't as bad as it seemed, there were lots of nice clientele who wouldn't thank her when she said to have a nice day, her co-workers were lazier than hell, and she was able to take a nap here and there on the newly baked rolls, still warm from the oven.

She gave Switchy a salute and polite smile, gaining a look of disgust from the war girl, not that she took it to heart. Switchy was always giving her annoyed looks, but she didn't care, they were still friends in her book – she overlooked that the green haired fem hated her guts and was a killer during the night – and that's what counted! Call her too friendly and able to love anyone, but that was her personality.

Taking the chips and scanning its price bar, Splenda continued to make conversations with her friend and frenemy, "So what are the chips and sodas for? Are you two going to Snuffles party tonight?" Word could get around in a town this small, and fast. The science geek was also a known Splenda fangirl, so she had happily given her role model an invitation and, squealing, had asked her to attend. Normally she wasn't one for social gatherings, but if it was a chance to hang out with her two buddies and mingle, she could make an exception.

"Yes, we are," the female solider looped her arm through the redhead's and glared at the excessively happy cashier. She had nothing against heroes . . but it was just this hero that got on her nerves. Especially how she would swoop in like nothing and interrupt her while she was talking to Flakes. She might've even gone as far as saying she was a cockblock at times. Clicking her tongue against the inside of her teeth, she was forced to ask the same in return, though she hardly cared about what the broad was doing. "You don't happen to be going, do you?"

The line of customers flinched and stepped back when, all at once, Splenda gushed out, "Oh my God! Yes, I'm going too! We could all hang out and eat and socialize together! Wouldn't that be fun, Flakes? And we could carpool because it's important to use as little gas as we can to help the environm—"

"We get it," Switchy snapped. She threw a twenty at the hero's face and scooped up their grocery bags in her free arm. "Let's go, I hope we don't see you there." The last part was meant for other people not to hear, but for specifically Splenda alone.

The masked girl waved enthusiastically and called a goodbye to them despite it.

"Bye Flaky! I know we'll have fun tonight! Just call me to pick you up!" Splendid shouted, looking desperate to anyone who was watching the scene.

Flippy was sorely tempted to turn around and give the clingy man a rude remark, possibly the finger, or say that he would make sure that Flaky was nowhere in his line of sight at the party. He didn't though, he didn't because he was a good person, and because Flaky had told him that having a potty mouth was wrong. But if she hadn't been there, he would've already snapped the talkative hero's neck at the first hello.

"What a loudmouth," Flippy said. "I don't think he cannot not talk for one second, what do you think? Do you think that if our lives depended on him not talking, we'd live, or die in a heartbeat?"

Flaky busied herself by checking to see if Splendid had gotten the prices for their items correct. "D-don't be mean, Flippy . . He was just trying to be nice by a-asking. How would you like it if someone went behind your b-back and said mean things about you? Stop it, we're his friends."

"I'm not his friend." They walked out of the store, Flippy taking the sodas from her so she wouldn't have to carry the heavy load. He turned his eyes to his jeep . . . and saw two faces that he wanted to punch more than Splendid's, to wipe off the smug look they always held, and maybe make them cry.

He dropped the bags, seeing them trying to take off one of the vehicle's tires—well one of them trying by loosening the bolts, the other was bending over him and saying he wasn't working hard enough.

"Hey! What are you two doing to my jeep?! Get away from there you rats!"

Upon hearing his voice, the two twins stopped and froze, cursing inwardly. They hadn't expected him to be out of the store this early, they had hoped for enough time to take off the tires, roll them away, and replace them with cement blocks. Now what were they going to do with the blocks that Shifty had made Lifty carry there? Oh well, the first thing they'd deal with was getting away from the red faced veteran, and keeping their limbs whilst doing it.

"Wha-oh!" Lifty dropped the wrench and jumped up, Shifty pulling on his scarf to hurry him up and unknowingly restricting his trachea. His choking lasted a second before he smacked his brother's hands away and yelled to move out if the way. "Fucking Christ, move! You're blocking everything!"

"Don't you know that the oldest go first!? Respect your elders dumbass!" Shifty put his whole palm on his twin's face and shoved him back roughly, Lifty stumbling inches away from the fuming war veteran.

Lifty yelped when the man's hands wrapped around his throat and he began strangling him, his eyes still green instead of a lucent yellow, but angry. The two thieves would constantly bring this side out of him, the side that wasn't psychotic, but easily annoyed and ready to be violent.

Shifty couldn't suppress his chuckle, his brother's face was too priceless; he regretted not having a camera with him. "Neehee—oh yeah, I need him, dammit."

Meanwhile, Flaky sighed and walked past their bickering, avoiding the older twin who had jumped on Flippy's back and was in the process of trying to teach him a bit of his own medicine by using his dog tags to choke him, opening the jeep door. She got inside and watched with no amusement at the three, two of them being strangled and the third struggling to hang on. There were boys who just never grew up.

She didn't have time to be waiting for them to actually begin talking instead of fighting, she was internally deciding if she really wanted to go to the planet party. It was time to take matters into her own hands, and she would admit that it was mean of her to do what she planned, but it would partially teach them to be serious.

"Kerch kerf kah!" Lifty was starting to think that he wouldn't be in any shape to go to the party that night if the solider kept trying to break his neck. The lack of oxygen getting to him, face turning purple, he was prepared to faint, but the choking stopped as a car honked next to them.

Three heads turning, they saw Flaky in the driver's seat of the jeep, mouthing a goodbye before she abruptly pulled out of the parking space, unused to the vehicle size, and leave the parking lot, running over a speed bump and Cub almost.

Speechless that she had just taken his jeep without telling him, Flippy stared after her, in shock rather than anger.

"So," Shifty said, smiling innocently at the brother he had betrayed and pretending it was nothing. "Is she going to the party or what?"

An idea dawning on him, Flippy smiled and bent down, hand still gripping the twin's neck, to pick up the dropped wrench. He'd be using this right now.

xXx

Flaky unlocked the front door to her house and tossed the car keys onto a side table. She saw the trail of melted ice cream, sticky and dried up now, leading from her room to the door. Nutty had left it behind when he had ran out, not caring or thinking about how she'd be the one who cleaned it.

She went into her room and fell down on the messy bed sheets, sighing when they stuck to her hair. What she wanted was to curl up, take a nap, and forget about the party that would waste her time anyways. Was she going? Yes, the chips were already paid for. Did she expect to be socializing and dancing it up? No.

_"La la la la la la la, nananana hahahahaha, lalalalala—"_

She needed to change that ringtone, it was one that Nutty had set because he so "dearly loved the Happy Tree Town anthem" that sounded like cartoon animals humming. Pressing the answer button, she said,

"Hello?"

"Hey, Flakes, is that you? Are you sick or . . . going through puberty again? You kind of sound like it."

Couldn't he have a few minutes where he could gather his thoughts in complete silence? First he had had to get rid of Switchy and the twins, Lissy and Sissy were a pleasure to be around, they made you aware that you needed to keep an eye in your possessions, but now another friend was calling him. And by the excitement he had started off talking with, he wanted to discuss the party.

"N-no, Lamin, I'm just tired." Yeah, tired. That was the blunt way to put it.

The French boy grew quiet, knowing that he had called at a bad time and disturbed his friend's nap or, er, private time. Hold on a minute, why was he thinking about that—moving on. Though he hadn't known the shy male long, being one of the newest people to move there, they had hung out enough times for him to figure out when he had something on his mind.

Considering how out of it he sounded, there were two options: A. He had mysteriously gotten a girlfriend overnight and knocked her up, then found out she was pregnant hours later, or B. Anything else besides A was what was bugging him.

"Oh . . should I call back later? This is a bad time, isn't it? I'm sorry . . I didn't think that you'd be busy . . ? You know what, forget I called, I'm sorry! Just, uh, take your nap."

There was his friend's trait, being a push over and too nice. He shouldn't have been judging, seeing that he was almost the exact same way. Lamin was trusting, he had trusted the twins with his wallet before . . and never gotten it back, also quiet, and fun to hang around with, when he didn't bring his creepy stuffed animal out and talk for it.

It was more of a vegetable than an animal, actually, it was a pickle. The toy was embarrassing in itself, seeing how he was a seventeen year old boy and he was clinging to his childhood, but what made it even freakier was how he had sewed dark green yarn to the back if its "head" and braided it. Lamin had claimed that she, he referred to it as a female like it had a gender, had grown it herself, but that was just crazy talk.

Besides his friend's problem with letting go of things, he was decent enough and could certainly be told any problem. The way Flakes saw it, everyone he told his dream to thought he was off his nut, but someone who talked to a stuffed pickle couldn't think that!

"Lamin, I don't know if I want to go to Snuffles' party . ." admitted Flakes. "I know y-you said you'd go with me too but . . I'm not sure anymore . . I don't feel good right n-now . ." It was the truth, maybe he wasn't physically sick, but he felt like when he arrived at Snuffles' laboratory, the building would collapse and crush them under it. He knew this night was going to end terrible, but he didn't know how . .

"What? But we've been talking about this for a week now! We were going to look cool in our new duds when we went in! I already had Mrs. Pickles polish my shoes, the shoes that Switchy's feline scratched up, remember? Do you know how hard that is to fix and make it look good?"

"You sound like C-Chuckles. But what if—"

"No 'what if's!" It was one of the first parties that he had been invited to since the first day he moved there, two boys running their mouths about how he was another psychopath that couldn't go any social gathering, jerks. "We're going to that party Flakes! Now are you going to make go over there and drag you out, or are you going to go willingly?"

The teen wasn't sure if his friend was being serious or not. "B-but I . . also sorta took Switchy's jeep . . and I think she might be mad enough t-to hurt me . . So if I go, she might—"

"No, no, she won't do anything. You have to trust that she'll forgive you, and if not, I'm there. I'll be your wingman, or would it be bodyguard?" Lamin chuckled. "I'm a guy, she's a girl, who would win?"

Switchy, no doubt that Switchy would win.

Flakes sat up and smiled nervously because he couldn't answer that without making the French male to look weak. "Eeee . ."

"Toughen up, Flakes, because you're going to that party! I'll put you in a sack if I have to. Just tell yourself that you can do it. Go on, tell yourself that right now while you go to your closet and put on a dress shirt."

He sighed and stood, whispering it into the phone, "I can do it . ."

"What? What was that? I couldn't hear you over your WIMPINESS. Say it like a man!"

That was harsh, he thought, cringing at the screaming in his ear. "I can do it . . !"

"Louder."

"I can do it."

"I can't hear you."

"I c-can do it!"

"Scream it out!"

"I Can Do It!?" It wasn't above an indoor voice, but for him, that was an improvement from a breathy whisper.

From the other end of the phone line, Lamin was appeased as he said, "Yeah! That's how you do it! Now go get dressed so I can pick you up in my way over there!"

Flakes nodded, motivated by his friend's words. The feeling of dread was even ebbing away as he hung up and started sorting through his drawers. "I can do this . . I can do this."

He left for the closet, coming back ten seconds later and dropping back onto his bed. "I can't do this."

xXx

The darkened sky was lighting up with every star that popped into it, the moon full and dyed an eerie color. Not a cloud was in the sky to block its haunting beauty or the moonlight it was sending over the black buildings of the town. The only alight building was a rather large laboratory that held some qualities of an observatory on the further boarder.

Cars and scooters were being pulled up in front of and around the lab, citizens dressed for a party stepping out and speaking excitedly to one another. Many carried plates or bags of food and snacks that they had brought for the occasion, though it was more for the party part of the gathering than the observing part.

The evening was to go as planned: talking and dancing was from six thirty to eight, food being consumed at this time and guests permitted to watch the sunset, from eight to eight forty-five an introduction video that spoke about why they were all gathered together, a fifteen minute intermission, and promptly at nine p.m. was when they'd be doing the actual sky watching. After that, well it was a party too, Sniffles would let his guests loose and allow them to dance the night away.

Flaky nibbled on her thumb nail, scratching the polish that Lammy had layered on so thickly when she saw that they were plain.

The French girl had arrived at her house a quarter of an hour late, having to get rid of a persistent Splendid who claimed that he had made a date with Flaky earlier, and found her friend moping on her bed. And after she had given her a pep talk, she still wasn't motivated, how?! She had made even herself believe that anything was possible as she was telling it.

She had forced her into a dress that they had shopped for the week before, but not without a struggle, and curled her thick bunches of hair. The burns that Flaky sustained from it would fade eventually.

Lammy slid down from the driver's seat, cautious so her skirt wouldn't catch on anything. "Flaky, we're here, I'll help you with the sodas but you have to get out of the car." She took a bag and waited for the redhead to, slowly, step onto the sidewalk.

"I s-still think this is a bad idea . ." Flaky said once she was situated on the ground.

The violet top giggled. "Yeah but I already brought you here so there's no going back! Besides, who else would I have gone with if you stayed home? I would've been alone and probably stuffing my face with chips all night."

"I-I'm glad that this night will be happy for you t-then," she pouted, looking through the faces for Flippy, and hopefully apologizing for what had occurred earlier. Guessing that he had gone inside, she quit her search and hefted the bags that Lammy didn't carry with her.

The two went inside of the filling laboratory. The lab tables had been transformed with dark blue and black table covers, streamers that had pictures of planets as a design hung around the room, and the posters that showed the human anatomy and how cells were formed were covered up with colored paper. Friends everywhere were talking and drinking the punch that was set out; they didn't seem to know that anything was wrong.

Shaking hands with Sniffles, the scientist complimenting her on her outfit, she mumbled thanks and stepped around him. She put what they had brought on the table, next to everything else. There was enough food that would be wasted that night, she hadn't even needed to bring the sodas or chips.

"L-Lammy I feel like I need to throw—" Flaky stopped, eyes locked on a platter of delicacies on one table. "I-is that . . fancy tuna!?" Forgetting what she had said about wanting to throw up, she pulled the girl to the table, awe filled eyes growing.

Lammy hadn't expected her friend to have a knack for seafood, but the way she was drooling over it said it all. "Yeah? Woah Flaky" –giggle— "it looks like you're going to eat the whole table!"

Blushing, she caught hold if herself and daintily picked up a single shrimp. She smiled self-consciously. "Sorry, b-but I just like . . Fancy fish tastes b-better than normal fish?"

"And you didn't want to come~! I knew that you'd have more fun here than if you had stayed home! Good job Lammy, one point for you," giving herself a high five, she said that she'd be right back, wanting to talk to Mime – haha, talk to the silent boy, right.

"Okay, I'll be h-here . ." Plucking another shrimp, she plopped it in her mouth and chewed, coughing when she saw Flippy. The coughing was because Splendid had bumped him out of the way and was waving at her, only to get beamed in the face with a slice of baloney meat.

xXx

Sniffles spread his arms out in an exuberant manner, the party goers staring at him in curiosity from where they were settled on lawn chairs and blankets. They had moved the party outside, the video done and the time saying it was time to watch the stars. It was also time to figure out the scientist's reason for putting this together.

"I bet you are all wondering why I had this party," Sniffles said. "Or as I like to call it, my Galaxy Gala!" He smiled at his joke, but getting a peep out of no one he continued. "Anyways, I hope you all are enjoying the part so far—"

"It sucks harder than your mom did last night," Shifty cracked, his twin snickering and returning the fist bump.

"—because it is just getting started! Behold the night sky! Our portal to a galaxy beyond our world and the ticket to seeing the main attraction in store for us!"

Flippy glanced over at Flaky, eyes turning to the plate of shrimp she had brought out to munch on. "Hey, maybe you should take it easy with those things. You're eating a lot of them."

Flaky shrunk into herself defensively, thinking that he was implying that she was getting chubby by hocking up on shrimp. She shook her head and ate another right in front of him. "N-no."

"Fine then, I was just going to say that you might get a stomach ache later on."

"The reason why I called you all here, bribing you with treats and whatnot, was because you all needed to see and learn about the planets! But more specifically, the planet's alignments. It has been recorded in my files by my grandfather, and his grandfather, and his grandfather—"

"Lots of old people, we get it. Hurry the hell up with it!"

People were just so rude these days. He smiled at Lifty, but it held no amusement for his interruption. "They have faceted that every couple of millenniums all the planets will align, though they wouldn't be perfect. Tonight is such a special night because, if my calculations and star graphing skills are correct, and they usually are, the eight planets will be lined up perfectly on this night and this night alone!"

Cuddles raised his hand and said, "I thought that there were nine planets."

Sniffles' face tightened at the idiotic statement. "No, there are only eight planets, how many times must the International Astronomical Union state that?! Pluto is not a planet!"

"You don't have to get so mad about it, geez." Cuddles put his hand down, looking at Toothy who had bumped him in the arm.

Toothy smiled and laughed, "You were closer than I was, I didn't even know that there were other planets." The two morons, they were morons in Sniffles' eyes, fell over at each other's stupidity.

"And . . Yes. In approximately," –he checked his watch— "forty-nine seconds there is supposedly going to be a flash of some sort and-and!" And after that, he didn't know for a fact what was going to occur. "One theory that my grandfathers had was that when the alignment took place, some unknown world was going to be revealed!"

"An unknown world?! That sounds so fascinating!"

"What if it's a world where everything is made of candy and rainbows and lollipops!? Ooooh! I would live there! It would be called Nuttyland HEEHEEHEE! YES."

While the people around her conversed, the countdown beginning; the plate of shrimp slipped off of Flaky's lap and overturned on the grass. The shrimp she had in her hand was disregarded as she stared at the sky, filled with one thought:

A new world would be revealed that night, and she was confident that they wouldn't be friendly. If the pit in her stomach that felt like impending disaster was warning her for future events, these aliens, monsters, whatever they were, would be hostile. Their lives would become more of a living hell than it was now.

And still, everyone was cheering as the seconds ticked on.

"Ten!"

"Oh yeah~ nine~"

"EIGHT!"

"Seven."

"Yes I get six!"

"Then I call nine! Get it? Six and nine equals—"

"Cuddles! You wasted time for our countdown!"

"Oops . . three!"

"Two?"

Flaky's eyes widened as she buried her face in her trembling knees, whispering, "O-one . . !"

Their breaths caught in there throat, all eyes glued to the sky and searching for the flash. Sniffles nearly toppled over his seat with how far he was leaning, nearly missing the white flash that had come from the—. . the lawn lights. Somebody had accidentally turned off the lights in the lab and flicked the wrong switch, setting the lawn lights on and blinding everyone.

Nutty cried loudly and fell back, being one of the closet to a light since he had decided it'd be a good chair to sit on. He rolled into one side and rubbed his eyes, screaming that he had gone blind.

The yard filled with soft murmurs that questioned if anything had changed. They didn't feel any different, and there was no portal that lead to an unknown place like Sniffles had predicted. The flash was stunning, but it hadn't come from the sky. Had they started the countdown too early?

Flippy blinked and began adjusting to the new dark that hadn't been that deep before the light. It had made him jumpy, his alter ego gaining a surprise from it too, and if that was true, he wondered how terrified Flaky had been. She hadn't screamed, but he knew she'd been spooked by it.

"That was something, wasn't it? Flaky?"

Flaky's eyes were clenched shut, her palms pushing against her ears to block out the horrible ringing nose she was hearing. Its high frequency seemed to be coming from nowhere, no other person being affected by it besides her. But it was so loud, so close to her, it felt like it was making her ears bleed.

"Hey Flaky what's wrong? You look like you're in pain, Flaky? Do you need a hospital?" His tone turned worried, his attention on the tears that dribbled down her cheeks and her clenched teeth.

The pulsating throbbing started in her head, spreading to settle in her stomach. The shrimp she had ingested was fighting back up her throat and threatening to spill out. This was a pain like no other, not only physical, but it was mentally fighting her. Pulling the walls of her brain apart and eating away anything it touched.

She shuddered and choked out, "N-no. I'm f-fine. You were r-right about the shrimp. I feel sick, F-Flippy, I'm going h-h-home." Pain growing and squeezing more years from her body, she got up and stumbled away from him. She massaged her temples and ignored his question that asked if he could drive her home.

He wouldn't understand what was happening. No one could. Not even she could.

Flakes, arriving at his home with a massive headache and strong urge to upchuck, put a fist on the door and breathed in usually. His watery eyes stared at the welcome mat, his arm pressing to his stomach as he gagged for the umpteenth time. He hadn't felt like this in his life, the sickness had hit him when the flash that had come from Snuffles' security lights blasted on.

It had felt like a bullet was being pushed into his brain and left there, his head feeling heavy and dead. He shut his eyes and hiccupped, fist trailing down to rattle the handle until it opened. Lucky that Lamin had rushed him out so he couldn't lock it.

He didn't close it, running to the bathroom and throwing himself on the floor. His hands gripped the outer rim of it, mouth opening and his gag reflexes went into overdrive. Coughs mixed with sobs as he pushed himself to expel the harmful contents of his stomach.

The feeling of forcing the vomit to climb into his mouth and be released didn't help nor lesson the contractions in his abdomen. It had been a mistake to try and open his tear stained eyes while he pushed, because seeing the red dyed toilet water, chewed and half-digested bits of shrimp floating at the top, brought another onrush of chokes.

Face burning, he decided that he'd have to go the way he hadn't wanted if he was to be empty again. He pulled a sweating hand away from the rim and uncurled his index finger. Body wracking against the porcelain seat, he thrust the finger in his mouth, sliding it across his moist tongue and jabbing the hanging uvula.

Immediately, the heated liquid rose and exited his body into the open bowl. Even with it gone, he had the sharp pains that ripped into his kidneys and tore holes in the skin of his stomach.

Wiping the reddened smears from the corner of his lips, he bit back a sob and resided to curl around the toilet, breath uneven and face shining with sweat. He occasionally belched or groaned, but there was nothing to throw up now; that gave him no comfort.

The room was hazy, with tears or pain he didn't know, but his eyelids slowly began to shut. He saw the room in the football shape, unable to tell where the sink was and only knowing that he was on the cold ground that cooled his face, before it turned black and he fainted.

Flaky awoke once more to the meadow scene, her pains and fears gone when the sun's rays descended on her skin. She faintly remembered that she had been in some sort of distress before she came here, but she couldn't place her finger on what it was. But, she needn't worry about that then, for she could see the boy from before.

He was at ease, eyes shut in contentment and a small smile on his lips. His hair was lightened to a fiery glow instead of a normal red velvet. If she had seen an angel, she would've thought he looked like it then.

"Why are you staring at me?" His eyes hadn't opened, how had he known that? He didn't sound flustered or upset though, just curious and amused.

"Because, I'm wondering how I got here," Flaky said calmly, reaching over to rest her hand on his. She hadn't thought of doing it, but the spark when they touched was undeniable, it reassured her that everything was fine.

"And why are you asking me? I have about as much clue of why we're here as you do," he teased, opening one eye to gaze at her, inspecting her face.

That should have sounded wrong, he was part of her dream, and yet he didn't know where they were at either? She giggled and stared at the dust moats that were lazily drifting in the sunlight. In a place like this, where pain didn't exist, she almost found it silly that she had gone through it in another life.

They were seated in each other's presence for a peaceful five minutes, comfortable with the silence and soaking in the ambience. Only when he abruptly hit a fist to his chest and coughed did she look at him again.

He coughed again, slipping his hand away from hers to grip the grass with it. Narrowing his eyes at the ground, he said, "I think I have something in my throat . . would you mind checking for me? . ."

"H-huh?" It was the first time she stuttered in this dream, and it felt strange, though she went through it every day. "Stuck? O-okay . . just, um, open your mouth and I'll check . ."

"T-thanks . ." Coughing one last time, he parted his lips wide enough for her to get a clear view of the back of his mouth. She didn't see a thing besides his straight teeth, stilled tongue, and-

The meadow's noises quieted, not a chirping of birds or chatter of squirrels was heard as she trembled, eyes staring in fear at what was lodged in his throat.

Rather, what was coming up his throat.

"Oh my God . . ! Oh my G-God!" Flaky cupped her hands to her mouth, shivering and fearful tears coming to her eyes when she saw the thing move. The thing . . was a hand. A gloved hand. The fingers wiggled, coated in a gooey texture that she had no idea what it was.

The boy shut his mouth, catching how her face had drastically paled and she was scooting back. It scared him, if he told truth. "W-what's wrong? What was it? What d-did you see?"

Flaky shook her head. If she told him, what would he do?

"I-I want to know what you saw, tell me . . ! Why do you look s-scared?" He raised a fist to his mouth, eyes shutting as he coughed violently for a moment. When his shudders were done, he looked into his hand and saw that it was flecked with spots of red. Swiping his tongue over his lips, he tasted the copper that he would know anywhere. "W-wha-? Am I bleeding? W-why am I bleeding?"

Flaky stifled a cry when he looked at her with fear that matched her own, his lips still parted so she saw the stained red teeth.

"Why a-aren't you saying anything!?" He wanted an answer and she wasn't giving it to him. Was she worried that he couldn't take the truth? That he'd be scared of what she'd say . . . because . . he was. "What's going on he-" Stopping, he hissed softly and put his palm to his chest, over his heart.

The sunlight had faded into a white washed gray, the trees around them decaying before her eyes and the river mudding. The blackened leaves detached from the dead branches, falling to the charred grass. It started off with one, but then they all began to float down and breeze around them, turning to dust when they hit anything.

She could only watch in terror while he hunched over and cried in agony, then turning into screams. He was shouting for her to help him, but all she did was stare. Stare and stare. She was still staring when she heard her breath hitch and his body buck forward, a low dripping hitting the ground.

She stared while the front of his sweater dampened and clung to him with a red stain. She stared while he cried and rolled back, hands clenching his heart. And she stared while the sharp tipped edge of a knife stabbed up through his chest, his legs kicking out and body twitching.

He sobbed as it tore through the skin that protected his stirrup, the color of his clothes dying to match his hair. The grass around him was no longer a bland grey, but filled with a deep crimson that soaked into the ground as if the dead earth was taking nourishment from his sufferings. It fed on his blood like it was the rejuvenating water from the fountain of life.

The knife stopping when it reached where his belly button started, he stared at the ashy sky, face stained with blood and salty water. He longed for the feeling of dying by now, and he had almost fell back into the cold, black water that was death, when he felt his chest being ripped opened, quite literally.

His scream of pain echoed from one hollow tree to the next as one last seizure took over his body, his eyes rolling back into his head. The gloved hand from before shot up from the large incision in his torso, the gooey slime still coating it, but this time it was clearer. Blood slid down it, flesh stuck under the dirty nails, and it was accompanied by another hand. Working together, they pushed apart the two halves of the boy's mangled chest, ribs cracking audibly as they paid no heed to being careful to his corpse.

Flaky, head swirling with the imagines of what she had seen, covered her eyes, peering through her spread out fingers as the top of a head, green hair stained and globs of gore sticking to each strand, appeared from his deceased body. She was petrified with fear, unable to run, and even if she could have, she hadn't the faintest idea where she'd go.

The blood puddle had reached the ends of her toes, her feet warmed as it traveled closer. By the time the green haired person had pulled their last boot from the distorted and drained boy, the puddle had already reached her hands, her fingers splashing in them absentmindedly.

Now that they were free from their confines, her body snapped out of its paralyzed state. She screamed, eyes darting from the pale face of her new friend, to the heartless monster's hungry eyes.

"You can't even escape me in your dream, bitch," he cackled and licked the blood from his fingers. "He tastes just like you, it's almost as if you're the same person~"

Crying, Flaky tried scooting back, but he had already whipped an arm out and grabbed her. She hit him in attempts that were futile, because, he already had her.

Fliqpy purred sadistically and pressed the bloody knife against her head, twisting her around, her elbow bent behind her back and her legs shaking beneath her. He nudged her forward with his knee, directing her to the no longer clear pond. "Look at the water."

Flaky shut her eyes and shook her head defiantly.

"I said look at the water," he growled. "Now open your goddamn eyes and stare at your reflection before I slit your throat."

Whimpering, her eyelids fluttered open slowly and she stared at the water. Her cries became sobs of disbelief when she saw, as their reflection, the boy from before; a knife pressed against his throat like her. But, instead of Fliqpy standing behind him, it was a female dressed in army attire, the identical look of a psychotic killer in her yellow pupils and the same crazy, shark toothed grin.

The soldiers pressed their mouth to both redheads, one in this twisted dream and the other in the reflection. Murmuring against her head, his voice changed from a husky man's to a rough female's, the new murderer said, "Welcome to our world, Flaky." And with a quick flick of her wrist, she slid the knife across her throat, Flaky's body crippling and her blood spilling into the pond.

**xXx**

**Did I say a little blood? I meant a decent size haha. I'll check my mistakes later, I'm hella tired! This is the longest chapter, not one shot, I've ever written and I did it in one day, woot! It's so random, I know, lots of tangents . . but, yeah. That's how I roll**.


	3. Meeting New People

_Drip, drip, drip._

Flakes awoke to plunking of water droplets hitting the porcelain basin of the sink, dripping down every other second in a steady rhythm. He counted his shallow breaths that matched the drops, his pulsating heart making the task challenging. His clammy hands were fisted and his arms wrapped around the base of the toilet still. Flakes dared not move for fear that his stomach would act up; the biting taste of vile clung to his tongue and was desperate for a toothbrush scrub. His back ached from lying on the solid floor all night, but the throbbing in his skull had subsided to a numbed migraine.

Open and close his eyelids fluttered, overcome with weariness and the feeling that came after one has been in a state of illness for an extended amount of time, a look of disorientation clouding them. Mysteriously the stomach flu — that is what he presumed it to be — had come, and almost as mysteriously it had left. It had been the shrimp that had brought this upon him, if it wasn't the flu, it was food poisoning, and hadn't agreed with his digestive system, that was the case.

But why had the headache been excruciating, clawing at the inner walls of his head with filed nails, why? He hadn't known that food poisoning had that side effect, it had felt as though it was tearing apart his entire being and . . . stabbing sharp pains through his heart.

Why had his memories of the previous night been turned blurred and unable to be focused on without his brain glitching? Why was there the sore pain in his chest, just above his heart, he had felt before when a pipe had been lodged in him? It was the closest feeling he could find a similarity to the ache with.

He unwound his arms as he was assured he wouldn't regurgitate, relieved that his stomach was not churning warningly, as now he had time to ponder harder on how the events of last night had unfolded.

But he had little information about what the party had spiraled to begin with, the hazy memory of the scientist greeting him at the front door was not enough to branch off of, and he knew that no one would be awake; the citizens had a tendency to get out of control at any party, being the few times where excitement aside from every day deaths was made. It was unheard of that a friend was up and going before twelve p.m. after a bash, and the people who were tended to lash out over the tiniest of problems or the slightest hello.

Lamin had also once been bitter during a call in the morning following a school dance, bite in his tone as he muttered the question, "Where's the fire." as a good morning. Though, ringing him five times in a row was sure to have deducted some of his good attitude points.

Flakes groaned freely as he stretched his stiff back, frowning at the cracking he got the further he arched his body, and afterwards let his arms fall away. He rubbed a crick in his shoulder and hissed in discomfort at the pain the pressure induced. He was forced to hang his head awkwardly to the side as he resigned to massaging it down, baring his teeth at each new twitch it sent down his arm's nerves.

_Wonder if_ _I_ _should call Switchy and tell her_ _I made it home alright, she must've been worried when_ _I just left like that,_ his thoughts turned to his friend while he tediously rubbed the ball to nonexistence. _Maybe Lamin, too,_ _I bet he'll want to tell me about what happened when_ _I was gone, probably will just be about his creepy conversation with DB._ Comforted that he'd be caught up on the details of the party, even if he'd have to sit through a session of Lamin listing all the ways Disco Babe was a cougar, he stopped rubbing and prepared to stand.

His first steps were that of a newborn babe, unsure and resulting in him clinging and holding himself off the floor using the sink. Locking his legs to ensure his frame was held, having just gotten familiar with standing and giving the responsibility for his upheld body to his legs, he hadn't noticed that he was panting in exertion. If standing up had already drained this much of his energy, he hadn't the foggiest idea how he'd stumble into his room and dial his friend's number in a well state.

His shaggy bangs hung in and curled around his eyes, framing his pale face and giving his skin the sickly look, he told himself that it was the lighting that took the glow of health, sort of health, away. He gripped his chin, turning his face this way and that, to inspect the obvious dark purple crescent circles under his eyes, bruises they seemed to be rather than marks from lack of sleep, with reproachful eyes. People would be questioning him multiple times throughout the day about them if he went out, and there was no way he was going to cover them with a female product called foundation like his girlier friend, Chuckles, pestered him to. It was the path to take if you wanted to look fabulous, he said, and ignored every one of the comments that opposed his sexuality.

The front of his sweater was stained, dried and hardened spots where his bile had splashed up from the toilet bowl and hit him, and one whiff of it told him that he'd need to rinse it thoroughly if there was to be no lingering stench. His lips curled back in distaste at his hair, this a regular step in his daily process of looking himself over in the mirror, seeing that it was, for one, full of dandruff, his scalp clearly didn't get tired of generating the annoying flakes, and for a second negative, it was oily and sticking to his forehead. He had just woken up, not ran a 5k marathon.

Knowing who would throw a fit if they caught sight of his messy hair, Flakes figured that a quick head wash would be the best thing he could do. He wouldn't be able to use the shower yet, needing the supporting sink and thinking he'd slip somehow and crack his head on the floor, so he settled on using the faucet's water.

He peeled off his sweater and threw it skillfully into the hamper by the door, grabbing a new shampoo bottle from under the sink. A splash of cold water seemed to kick start his entire body and replenished his energy from zero to average as he quickly got to work on scrubbing at his head. Flakes' eyes squeezed shut as the soapy residue ran down his face and dripped into the sink, whispering to himself unintelligible things, forgetting that the dream that had screwed with him for over two weeks hadn't showed head or tail in his dreams.

Finished doing a mediocre job, it was as clean as he hair would get, dandruff fiercely clinging to strands and refusing to be washed away, he rinsed the rest of the shampoo out and watched it swish down the drain. He ran his fingers through the damp clumps of hair, getting most of the water out, and shook his head to fling the rest everywhere. Flakes smiled weakly at the mirror, wiping his hand over the condensation, only to have it smear.

"Whatever . . ." That was another thing for him to clean now. He grabbed a towel, drying his hair of the remaining water and walking with care through the door connected to his room.

Staring at the still messy bed, he rolled his eyes and went to the worn dresser. He opened the drawer that held his underclothing.

—and blinked.

"Wha—huh?" Lips clamped together and pink dusting his cheeks, Flakes ever so slowly held a delicate piece of cloth in the hold of his forefinger and thumb. He gulped and gained the nerve to pinch the other end; an action that got his face flushing and ears a deep red. "G-gah!" He covered his nose at the sudden wetness coming from it and gaped at the black lingerie that he had found. Found in his drawers!

The lacy ends were trimmed and—eye twitching excessively and abstruse syllables leaving his opened mouth, the flustered male threw the panties back and shoved the drawer shut.

What was that?! He had thought the prank was overused and old already; the stealthy twins had pulled it on him over a year ago. And even then, he had reacted in the same manner, angered when they showed him the pictures they had taken of his red face and bulging eyes. At the time, he hadn't considered why they were staking out in his closet anyways.

"W-w-what!?" Flakes sputtered and wiped his fingers on the bed sheets. "W-who the—?!"

Some girls just didn't know where too far was, and the twins were those kinds of girls. It was likely to be them who planted the . . underwear . . in his dresser. They enjoyed jacking and pulling their pranks on him. The two girls thought it was absolutely hilarious when he was upset or embarrassed, and the two put together was the icing on the cake.

Eyes narrowing, he figured that it was the female thieves wanting to see if he'd fall for the same prank twice. "Very funny g-girls," said Flakes in sarcasm, "but I know it's you . . I thought you'd remember doing this l-last time." He waited for the creaking of steps of exaggerated whines that came with their plans failing, but he didn't receive it.

"Lissy?" He took his hands from his hips and paused. "Sissy? H-hey, girls?"

The sound of a car passing on the street sounded, but nothing more.

". . Huh." Flakes scratched his head in thought. There was always more places he could get clothes from. Like the closet for instance, it held his sweaters on a hanger and the girls wouldn't submit their time to hanging every last-but maybe they had ruled over their laziness.

In his closet weren't his garments, but some that shared similarities with his own. The sweater was bunchy and a faded tan, as was his, but the shape to it was more pear like. It would do better as a female's outfit than his, and he couldn't restrain his look of chagrin accompanied by a displeased grimace. "Sissy, k-knock it off! I've told you . . I'm not dressing up f-for your dumb pictures . . ."

He still believed that the Twins were behind this, but yet he subconsciously ignored the panic in his gut and passed it as nothing but hunger.

The house was dark, the sun that came in from behind the curtains hadn't risen yet, and he stumbled over the furniture he couldn't see. The faint clicking of the numbers on his clock flipping was heard and the chirping of the earliest risen birds; they were signs that his worst dreams of being the only person alive on the planet were nothing. The door had shut by itself, propelling back after his abrupt opening, but he still worried that a stranger had found their way in.

After making a bowl of cereal, Flakes sat on the couch and sighed heavily. The events of last night were done and over with, and for that he was happy. He could relax and lay around the house, hopefully bothered by no one.

Switching on the TV, he ate a spoonful of cheerios as a pink clad character came on the screen. "Hey look, it's Chuc—" Narrowing his eyes, he inspected the face that was a tad rounder than his friends and the amount of makeup applied to it. Their face framed in pink hair cut in a bob and topped off with an eye-catching bow, he didn't know what to make of them. Or, her.

"And in other news," she said, voice getting fierce, "there has been a fire at the explosive chemical factory! I repeat, a fire at the explosive chemical factory! There are an estimated amount of three people trapped in the building, and we don't know how they're going to get out!"

She brought a handkerchief to dab at her glistening eyes, adding onto Flakes' confusion. "A-and it's just so sad! Thinking of how they're going to die, it is, like, so terrible! Oh, my makeup is even running!" The girl fanned herself as another female in blue came out whispering that it was okay and giving her a water bottle.

Flakes sat staring dumbly. What was the right way to comprehend what he thought was the news turned into a drama?

Seeming to compose herself, she exhaled and smiled. "Okay, I'm fine to all the viewers out there, no need to worry about me. I am just very emotional and sensitive when it comes to things like—" The girl was cut off by a bullet of blue flashing over her, bow flying away and hair given a new swept back hairstyle.

When she recovered, she growled and shook her fist at the blue streak that had crashed through the building. "Hey! Did you not see me trying to talk!? You jerk! Someone give me my purse! Give me my purse, hello!?" She looked at the camera, eyes on fire with a new crazy that contradicted what she said about being sensitive. "Are you recording this?!"

"N-no Ms. Giggles!"

"Yes you are! I see you! Turn that camera away right now! Turn it away! Or better yet, give it to me!"

The redhead's mouth had long since dropped open, cheerios falling to his lap, and watching with interest that hadn't waned since the blue light had sped by. He stared as the camera shook, Giggles—he now knew her name—grabbing hold and wrestling for it with the man recording.

"Toothy! Give me the camera! Give it before I break a nail! Oh, if I break a nail, YOU ARE GOING TO DIE!"

"N-no! Somebody stop he—!"

The camera fell to the ground with a crack as the glass broke, the view turned away from the two and focused on a baby that was teetering precariously on a tree branch. The baby slipped, laughing and being held up by the branch caught on his diapers as the sounds of loud smacking and girlish screams came from the blocked off area.

"BOYS NEVER LISTEN! ARE YOU GUYS STUPID OR SOMETHING!?"

"I told C-Cuddles you were craz-YYYYY!"

The scene suddenly switched to another location by the building, the angel showing in the background where Giggles was brutally demonstrating to Toothy why Cuddles never spoke up against her. The new reporter, a male, was silently watching them in awe before he snapped back to his job.

". . . Aside from that, let's see how our hero is doing!" At the word hero, everybody in view backed up, some screaming, to go hide behind barriers—walls, cars, trees, anything.

Flakes, having enough of the whacked out broadcast, had just powered the set down when the lightning streak of blue burst from the building. The camera caught the look of success and determination behind the red mask, and the scream of fright coming from the girl in his arms.

There was an alienating silence that he was left in, trying to shift through what he had just seen. The abuse hadn't been the strangest part, scarring, but not what stood out. He questioned if this was perhaps a new broadcasting station, but he hadn't seen the faces of those being filmed around before. Flakes was confident that he had memorized the names, and if not names then faces, of everyone who lived in his community. It was called being a good neighbor.

But he had never met any of those people on his walks or at social gatherings. There was something about them, though, that seemed familiar; he just couldn't place his finger on it.

Pink hair girl was Giggles, she knew a boy named Toothy and Cuddles. Then the baby who had no caring parent to look after him appeared to be accident prone and drawn to danger; how else would he have gotten to balancing on a branch? Lastly, the so called hero that everyone seemed to fear. . . .

Flakes groaned and fell back to rest. This was too much thinking to be doing in the morning, the sun was barely coming up and already he and others were bustling around.

The loud ringing of the kitchen phone jolted him to sit up. Couldn't he have just one moment in tranquil peace?! Eyes narrowing, he stood and walked to grab it.

The number was one he knew by heart, and he was ready for the rant. "Hey, Lamin. What's up?"

Instead of the medium pitched voice he expected, he was met with an opposite of it. "Lamin? Flaky, it's Lammy, you know, the friend that you ditched yesterday! Thanks so much, I thought you were my friend, yada dada ya."

". . . What?"

"Lammy, Flaky it's me. Are we having a bad connection? Sorry, I'm driving and I'm trying not to let Lumpy see me. Last time he caught me driving and talking I got fined two cats, like why two cats? And I don't know what he did with them either."

This girl talked as much as his friend, Flakes thought, holding the phone away and looking at the papers on his fridge. He played with a magnet that held the picture his group of friends had taken once. "Sorry, but I think you have the wrong n-number."

"Wait, who is this? Flippy, is that you? Where's Flaky, put her on the phone."

"Look lady," the magnet popped off and the picture drifted face down on the floor, "I'm trying to tell you that you have the wrong—" He picked it up, turning it and gazing at the faces of his friends.

But they weren't his friends, in fact, he wasn't in the picture at all. Occupying his spot in the left corner, hiding behind a lime haired man, was a petite girl. Her wavy tendrils of red hair partially hid her face, covering one eye completely, and she was smiling softly. Shy, unsure, and it was definitely not him.

"Num . . . ber." Flakes touched the faces of the group that had been his friends, eyes growing in size and mouth turning dry. There was the girl with the pink hair in Chuckles' spot, that hero in Splenda's place, and the girl—he knew who she was. She was the person in his reoccurring dream, but she wasn't real! So why was she in the exact location he had been?

"Hello? Okay, whoever you are, you obviously don't know Flaky. But you're in her house, and I'm thinking you're a creep. I'm going to be there in a few minutes, and if I find that Flaky is hurt or she doesn't know you, you better know I'll do something!—Hello?"

Flakes had already dropped the phone, the cord keeping it above the ground, and the door to the house was swinging wide open.

_**~Our Twisted Realities~**_

Flaky had been sleeping in her bed, having made it to the mattress the previous night, and tucked in cozily. The pains had left her shortly, but taken most of her strength with it, and left her to slip into sleep. She would have slept until nightfall if possible, the thermal covers warming her perfectly, if it hadn't been for the persistent knocking on the screen door.

In the beginning it had been bearable and easy to ignore, but it steadily got more urgent. It was rude to leave guests out, she knew this, but in her exhausted stage she didn't care.

That was . . . until the distinct sound of a lock being picked met her ears.

In the living room the door opened and a head of pink hair, a red work out headband holding some more unruly strands back, poked inside. Fuchsia eyes blinked and scavenged the room for any signs of life.

When they realized no one was in, they sighed and came in fully. Hand on hip and tone higher than the average male's, they said, "I told you he wasn't here, but nooo, you didn't believe me! I can be right sometimes, hmph."

"That's because last time I made you the look out, you screamed and told me you saw a killer," a calmer, sultry voice came. Strolling in, hands in his pocket, the taller boy frowned at the amount of dust that his friend had let build up on his furniture. He stuck a finger out and ran it over a drawer top, rubbing the muck on a wipe extracted from his pocket. "While really it was just a Praying Mantis."

"Well it looked creepy with those bug eyes!" defended the pink head.

It really had! The giant red eyes staring straight into him as it slowly approached him. It had been asking for a tussle and challenged him by raising up its front legs. Excuse him if he had released a cry-or a shriek. Bugs were monstrosities that needed to be dealt with accordingly, and that meant it was called for him to squeal in disgust and run away.

"Mm hm," the other chuckled at his friend's hatred for anything that crawled.

"Shut up Petunius! You would've cried if that thing dropped into your washer and stained all your clothes! Stained them with its bug guts!"

"That'd be likely," the blue haired male mused, "but I certainly wouldn't have committed such an embarrassing act in public. It was like you hadn't even noticed that Snuggles was there, she wasn't even scared of it. How mortifying~"

Puffing his reddening cheeks, the shorter boy raised a palm. "Okay, you didn't have to bring _that_ up—"

"And I found it hilarious when she even picked it up herself. The way you screamed as she held it out to you, Chuckles, it was like you hadn't any shame." Petunius side grinned and went to work on fixing up the living room.

Chuckles gasped. "You are so rude sometimes!" He turned his nose up at the cleanaholic and strut into the kitchen.

Hearing the fridge open, Petunius hadn't even looked up from his cleaning to know that his dramatic friend was going to empty it of its contents. "Don't eat too much, you are always telling me how ghastly it would be to own clothes that didn't fit you."

"You be quiet!" came the defiant response. "I'm a stress eater and you know that!"

"And what are you stressing about over now?"

The fridge closed and Chuckles came out with a minute made sandwich in his hands. "If you really want to know—"

He truly didn't. The question had been asked out of politeness.

"—my hair's lifeless today, Snuggles told me that she wants space, and Flakes didn't have any organic foods!" He cried in distress, taking a bite of the sandwich and talking without swallowing. "You know how many _carbsfh_ bread hasfh?! Gawd, I don't know how he can eat this sfhtuff."

Swallowing and taking another bite, he didn't know why the older teen was staring at him funny. "What?"

Petunius shook his head and went back to fluffing a throw pillow. "Nothing, you wouldn't take my advice anyways."

Chuckles thought about it, then nodded. He probably wouldn't, but it'd still be nice to know what he was going to say.

Watching them from the bend of a wall, Flaky's breath was stuck in her throat. She had awoken and come from her room to find two strangers waltz into her house and . . . clean for her? One was at least, that one hissing a threat that dealt with the crumb dropping policy at the other boy.

Before it had only been single boy in a lovely meadow, and now it was two in her living room? She hadn't expected this, clearly her head was going off on its own and fantasizing about every male. . . .

She hide behind the corner and almost squeaked when the pink head went to her cabinet and thumbed through her movies.

"Do you think Flakes went out with Switchy or somethin'?" asked Chuckles, raising a brow and snorting when he found a DVD cover with a scantily dressed woman on it. "Hey, get a crack of this," he threw the box and went back to looking at titles, "I didn't think Flakes would be one for that kinda thing."

Eyeing the unopened cover, Petunius read the description and noticed the names scribbled at the bottom. "I think he had the twins to thank for this, disgusting." He flung it onto the couch, meaning to burn the disc so his awkward friend wouldn't feel embarrassment towards it anymore. "Maybe he's with Lamin, those two are getting closer each day so . . . We all have different tastes."

Wrinkling his nose at the implication, he nodded and held up two movies. "I don't think he'd get mad if we hung out, do you? I already raided his fridge, so a movie wouldn't hurt. Which one you wanna watch, Quick and the Crazy 3, or Enchanting Ellie?"

He wouldn't be watching it anyways, cleaning was his priority at the moment, so he decided on the movie the shorter male had practically had a nosebleed watching. "Enchanting Ellie."

Chuckles contained a boyish squeal and went to put it on. Already he had begun talking about how Raya Goosle had played the part of Ellie so well—a one-sided conversation the two had had on multiple occasions.

Flaky would have walked in and put a stop to their actions, it was her house after all, but she let her imagination wander. And when she let it wander, it would create the most outrageous events. She was already shaking because she imagined the two pulling knives from their pants and chasing her around.

Why was she scared, they were the intruders! If she could get to the phone she could call Lammy and tell her that there were strangers in her house, but with the pink head constantly getting up to grab a bowl of popcorn, a soda, or any other food to satisfy his needs, she wouldn't make it to the kitchen without being caught. Unless she used her phone to make the call, then she wouldn't have to sneak past them. Not like she would be able to, her brilliant hair would give her away instantly.

Backtracking to the room and throwing up the covers, she found her phone and dialed her friend. "L-Lammy be home . . ! Be home, be home, be—"

_'We're sorry, but this number has been disconnected. Please try again later.'_

Disconnected, but she had just called her yesterday. Surely the French girl would have told her if she was getting her line cut. Flaky wasn't detoured though, she could always have Flippy come and throw the strangers out. She dialed him and got the same response as she did for Lammy's cell; that was when she knew it had to be another problem.

She checked the signal on her phone, gasping as she saw that she had no bars whatsoever. Puzzled because she had always gotten good reception in her room, she threw the phone back down and leaned out her bedroom door. The sounds of the movie were heard along with the crunching of crumbs being sucked up, a low warning exchanged between the two boys, but she wasn't sure if they would decide to check her room or not.

"F-Flippy," whimpered Flaky, longing for the protection of her friend, "what's going on . . ."

Petunius, satisfied with his work, put the portable vacuum on his shoulder and smiled. "Flakes is going to be grateful for this. You would have brought in ants with your blasted crumbs if I hadn't sucked them up."

Chuckles glared at him, halfway through stuffing his face with a Twinkie, Ding Dong mix. "Sfho what, itsfh not my housfhe." He 'aww'ed when, annoyed with how many crumbs he spat out while talking, the clean freak had vacuumed up the remains of his sugary treat. "Really? You had to do that? I could've gotten a napkin! That was, like, his last Twinkie!"

"You'll thank me one day. That stuff is bad for your teeth." He ignored the growl and almost put his vacuum away, but stopped after noticing the white flakes scattered by the hallway carpet. They hadn't been there a few minutes ago, but looking up he saw no one by the corner. Flakes wasn't home and he was the only person who had an excessive dandruff problem, so could they be there from another time and he missed them . . ?

Eyes flashing with an on a mission look, he whipped out the little machine again and held it in front of him. "Mm." Without waiting, he stepped up to it and vacuumed the flakes in less than a second.

Chuckles watched him briefly, checking his watch and saying, "That's a new record time, good job."

"Great, now I just need a trash bag to empty this thing—" That's when he saw _i__t_. The_ it_ being a trail of white pieces of dandruff leading to Flakes' room and littering the floor. His eye twitched once, Petunius gawking before regaining his cool and setting a straight face. He started sucking up the trail, going to the house owner's room and leaving his friend behind.

Flaky looked up from her hands, hearing the suction. "E-eek!" Where was there to no, to hide, no not be found!? There was the closet, the bed, curtains, the . . . that could work.

Petunius came in, humming under his breath to keep his OCD from getting too out of hand, and cleaned what left of the dandruff there was. "Isn't that better? I swear, I am such a good friend to Flakes. Good job Petunius, good job." Adjusting a picture frame so it wasn't crooked, he left back to the living room and asking Chuckles where the shy male kept his garbage bags at.

As he left, the cover to the hamper lifted an inch and fearful crimson eyes peered out of it. Flaky whimpered and sunk back in the dirty clothes, thinking she was safe until she saw a pair of boxers and almost screamed.

Face red, she tumbled from the basket with a low cry. She hadn't needed to see that—. . . boxers in her hamper? Flippy, or Nutty, must've forgotten them and she casually threw them in along with her clothes; it was the best explanation for it.

Now, there was only the way of how she would get out to think about. The front door was out of the question and she didn't have the strength to open her stiff bedroom window. If only she knew the secret passage the twins claimed to have to get into her house, but they would never tell her that. But there was one other place she could try: The bathroom window.

"So," Chuckles paused Enchanting Ellie, "how was your little expedition?"

Petunius spilled out the dust and flakes from his vacuum into a bag. "Just fine, how did you expect it to go?"

"Dunno, but all I know is those three cans of soda really got to me." Making a face, he got up and rushed past the clean freak. "I have to tinkle!"

He would correct and tell him that tinkle was not the proper word for a fluid release, but he wasn't feeling like he wanted to explain that. Girls said tinkle, yet Chuckles still said and had no problem with it.

Flaky, already snuck out from her bedroom, gagging as she realized another pair of boxers was on her head like a hat, and crept into the bathroom. She dared not turn the light on even though she closed the door. She stepped into the bathtub, careful not to slip, and began reaching for the stout window.

"Gotta pee, gotta pee, gotta pee! Oh my gawd, I have to pee!"

"Oh no!" whispered Flaky. The door was swung open just as she pulled the shower curtain shut, the rustling stopping as Chuckles danced in. She held her breath, turning red and hearing the unzipping of pants followed by a sigh of relief. This situation could not have been more embarrassing to the already frayed redhead, and to top it off, there was an itch coming from the inside of her nostrils.

Chuckles began zipping his pants back up, about to wash his hands, when he heard a small 'achoo!' from the bathtub. "Bless you."

"T-thank you."

He smiled and laughed, a hint of craziness sprinkled in it. Did the tub just sneeze, _and_ say thank you? Oh boy. Reaching out, he fisted the floral patterned curtain and pulled it aside.

The two colored eyes met, pink to red, and they blinked. The bathroom was as silent as a graveyard, the female and male locked in an intense stare. Seconds passed by, and then. . . .

"A-AHHHHH!"

Flaky blinked again at the shriek, shocked that it had left his lips instead of hers.

"PETUNIUS!" Chuckles screamed, backing away from the girl and standing on the toilet seat. His legs were clattering as he shouted bloody murder. "PETUNIUS THERE'S A GIRL IN THE SHOWER! WAHA I PEED IN HERE!"

Flaky was going to say to calm down, but was stopped when the man he was screaming for appeared in the doorway. She saw the confusion in his eyes . . . and the knife he was holding in his hand.

Now it was her turn to scream. "A-AH!"

Hearing her scream, Chuckles almost fainted. Staggering and grabbing the sides of the toilet, he let out another short yelp. "W-why!? Why would you do this?!" He was referring to hiding in the bathroom, what he thought was a prank. "I almost had a h-heart attack! Did you want me to have a heart attack?! Why are you screaming!?"

Flaky wiped her eyes, shaking at the growing anger in his voice. "W-well, why d-does he have a knife?!" She pointed at the utterly confounded blue haired teen. "H-he looks crazy!"

"Oh, so he's the crazy one?! What are you even doing in the bathroom!—scratch that, why are you in Flakes' house!?"

Lowering the knife—it was the first thing he had grabbed at the scream—Petunius looked from the pink head to the redhead. "You . . know each other?"

"What? No! I was peeing and this creep was in here the entire time! And I don't even know why she's here!"

"I-I didn't mean to be in here!" Flaky whined, not comprehending what was going on anymore. "A-and this is my house, why are you t-two in here?!"

"Wait slow down," he put down the knife and held her stare calmly. "Just start from the beginning, who are you, and why are you here? Judging by your hair color, could it be possible that you're a family member of Flakes?"

"Why are you questioning her!? Call the cops! Call the S.W.A.T. team! Do something!"

"Shut it," Petunius hissed, successfully quieting the flipping out boy. He kept his distance from the suspicious female in the case that she was deadly, but it didn't look like she would be much of a fighter. "Can you tell us your name?"

"U-u-uh," Flaky looked too both of them, squeaked, and in a rush pushed past the blue teen and fled from the bathroom.

"Hey!" screamed Chuckles. "Where are you going!? Get back here and tell us who you are!" He looked at the frozen in place Petunius, wondering why he wasn't giving chase. "Go after her!"

"For what? She didn't seem particularly dangerous, and in a place like this, how far can she get without running into some hazardous object? She'll be gone by midday."

It was a bit spooky how calmly he talked about the mystery girl facing her death, but there was some truth in it. "Okay then . . Guess you're right?" Holding his hand out, he said, "Help me down."

Chuckling, he shook his head and said seriously, "Over my dead body. You haven't washed your hands and I've already sanitized mine, I'm not going to be a victim to germs." Then he walked out and left the prissy boy looking dumbfounded.

". . . Petunius? Petunius, whoo-hoo, I'm still here? . . . Hello!?"

**xXx**

**Update, finally. And woah, you can tell where I just started writing whatever came to my head XD Looking a bit girly there, ay boys? So this won't happen often where Flaky and Flakes share a chapter, they'll usually be separate, but since it's the beginning of the day I had to make it together C:**

***turns Crystal into a boy* yay! 8D**


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